


You're The One That I Want

by WeSaveWhoWeCanSaveToday



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Clubbing, Drunkenness, Enemies to Friends, F/M, Grease - Freeform, Halloween, In which Clarke and Bellamy do a 180 in their relationship, Octavia is an evil genius, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 06:26:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10405980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeSaveWhoWeCanSaveToday/pseuds/WeSaveWhoWeCanSaveToday
Summary: Octavia's sick of her best friend and her brother fighting at every social gathering. So she, along with Clarke's other friends, hatches a plan to end the friendship - for better or for worse.So one fateful night, at a Halloween event attended by the entirety of Arkadia U, Clarke is (reluctantly) dressed as sexy Sandy Olson from the end of Grease, when she sees who's come dressed as Danny Zuko.





	

It was approximately eleven o’clock in the evening of October thirty-first, and Clarke was stood shivering outside a building that was virtually pulsating from the bass that was playing within.

She was wedged between a group of girls in matching pink satin jackets, and two tall people covered in fake fur and ripped clothes. 

Her hair held more curls than it had ever done so before in her life, and she was covered head-to-toe in skin tight black. She was also possibly the most uncomfortable she had ever been in her life, but she still smiled at one of the girls in the pink jackets.

“Will you relax Clarke? You look sexy as fuck,” a dark-haired girl in a green summer dress beneath her satin jacket cooed to Clarke, noting her miserable expression.

“I feel so exposed in this thing, O,” Clarke whined, resisting the urge to tug at the neckline to make it sit higher on her chest. She glowered as a group of boys walked past, wolf-whistling as their eyes scanned her up and down.

“Try it, I dare you!” One of the other Pink Ladies snapped to them, her red lips a snarl on her beautiful face. Raven Reyes was playing the part of Riz that night, and boy did she look it in high-waisted pink shorts and a little red shirt tied so that it showed a sliver of midriff. She was as exposed as Clarke was, if not more, but Clarke thought Raven pulled it off effortlessly compared to herself.

“Easy girl, we don’t want to get kicked before we even get in,” the fourth girl in their party, Harper, sang over Raven’s shoulders as she kneaded them, shooting the boys her own dirty look as they slapped each on the backs and swaggered off to the back of the queue. Despite Harper’s attempts at calming the feisty engineer student, Raven still glared at them as they went.

“They better hope I don’t see them in the club,” she hissed, finally turned back to face the front of the queue. Clarke stifled a grin, appreciative of the older girls’ aggressiveness towards creepy assholes.

Every few minutes the line would shuffle forward, until Clarke could feel the heat pouring from the doors. It was almost enough to make her feel better, but goosebumps still rippled down her bare arms.

“I still think I should have been given a jacket; I thought the end of the film was supposed to prove she could be one of the Ladies,” Clarke protested, not for the first time, and Octavia rolled her eyes at Raven. Something about the knowing smile shared between them sent a chill down Clarke’s spine that she was sure wasn’t just from the temperature.

“Yeah but she didn’t have it in the final scene at the carnival,” Octavia explained, her voice almost whining. She’d had this argument with Clarke, her roommate, since they’d conceived the idea. Most of the argument had been that Harper was practically blonde too, why couldn’t Harper have been Sandy, but Octavia had brushed it all off. She had a plan, and she wasn’t about to let Clarke ruin it with her aversion to being the centre of attention.

She was about to protest further, pointing out that none of the other girls had their jackets in the final scene, but they were now at the front of the queue and the bouncer was holding his hand out for Clarke’s ID.

She’d been out loads with her fake ID, still being only nineteen, but it still made her nervous to the point of sweaty palms whenever it was examined. The split second that occurred as the doorman glanced from the grainy photo on the card to the obviously underage Clarke in real life always sent her heart into her throat, yet she hadn’t been called for it once.

She breathed a subtle sigh of relief as she made her way into the entryway, waiting by the side for the others to join her. 

As usual, Octavia bounced in without a hint of fear despite being a year younger than even Clarke, Harper hot on her tail. Raven didn’t have to worry; she was definitely old enough that her ID was real.

It didn’t take long for them to pay and soon they were walking through the doors and into the damp, loud heat of the Alpha Station nightclub.

It was a popular club, especially if you were a student at the local Arkadia University. And, on Halloween, popular was an understatement.

“Okay, remember kids, check phones regularly, keep an eye on at least one member of this party at all times, and all potential male friends are to be agreed by all of us before you go home with them,” Raven recited her rules for nights out to Clarke, Octavia and Harper who all rolled their eyes, unable to keep the grins off their faces. 

“You can all keep your eyes on this on my way to the bar,” Octavia shouted over the sudden roar of the crowd on the dancefloor below them as a banger began playing through the speakers. She smacked her ass as she lead the way to the nearest bar, elbowing her way through the mass of bodies all waiting to shove forward to get drinks.

The girls laughed and followed in the wake that Octavia left, apologising to the scowls on the faces of the people they’d pushed in front of. 

Already Clarke hated how she could feel every body part she passed against every body part she owned, intentional or otherwise. The outfit was too much, and she wasn’t nearly tipsy enough from the pre-game to handle this much contact this early in the night.

It took them the usual fifteen minutes until they all had two drinks each, plus a tray of shots Octavia decided to treat them all to. They’d found a tiny standing table near the balcony looking over onto the dancefloor, and all stood as close together as possible on one side to avoid being jostled by drunken idiots that passed by them.

“Here’s to Raven!” Octavia called, lifting her bottle of beer high into the air. “Future rocket scientist, forever a badass! Here’s to your last epic Halloween with us bad bitches!” she screamed the last two words, wrapping her spare arm around Harper beside her. The girls all cheered and took big gulps from each of their drinks, drinking until at least one each of their plastic cups and bottles were empty.

“Please O, like there’s any way I won’t be back for this next year,” Raven said with a wry smile as she flicked a dripping straw in Octavia’s direction. 

“Nah, you’ll be old with a proper adult job; too busy for babysitting,” Harper replied, sticking her tongue out. 

“Shut up and have a shot,” Raven shot back, grinning as she dished out three shots to each girl. 

They counted to three and downed the first one, grimacing and making retching sounds as they slammed the glasses back on the table. 

“Octavia, you’re supposed to have salt and limes with tequila,” Clarke protested, taking a sip from her brightly-coloured cup to try to mask the burning taste of the tequila that had engulfed her mouth.

“Yeah, dumbass,” Raven agreed, but reached for her second one anyway. 

“I know that, assholes. They just didn’t have any left,” Octavia said, grinning as wide as the Cheshire Cat as she downed her second shot with wild eyes. Harper and Clarke followed suit, both sticking their tongue out in disgust as the liquor hit their throats.

“Oh my god this is so disgusting,” Harper said, still wincing a minute later. 

“Suck it up, McIntyre,” Octavia bit back, sticking her own tongue out between her teeth as she went for her third and final shot. “C’mon, altogether again. One… Two… Three!”

All four girls chanted the countdown, throwing back their shots in unison. This one didn’t seem to hit as hard as the others did, but Clarke guessed that was linked to the feeling of numbness that was engulfing her extremities.

“Okay now we’re all going to be hurling in like thirty minutes, should we go dance before we get kicked out?” Clarke asked.

“Yes, we should, but first I told the boys we’d meet them in…” Octavia’s phone lit up in her hand, “…About two minutes.”

By boys, Octavia meant their classmates and friends, Monty, Jasper and Miller. The thought of more of their friends seeing her in this get-up made her feel a little bit nauseous, though she guessed that might also have been the tequila.

“Okay, whereabouts?” Raven asked, gathering her drink.

“Cloakroom.” Octavia replied, looping her arm through Harper’s as she once again led the way.

Raven and Clarke followed them, dancing around party-goers in all states of inebriation. There was an eclectic mix of costumes too, ranging from the cliché to the obscure. Marios and Luigis, guys in half-hearted drag, sexy nurses and sexy police officers – the combined imagination of a room of college students.

She was appraising the various costumes she saw around her, until she spotted one that thoroughly surprised her.

He was leaning against the wall just beside the entrance, near the cloakroom, and the feeling of nausea hit Clarke all over again.

He was wearing black jeans, and his fairly built torso was covered by a black tee beneath a bright white varsity jacket, adorned with red stripes and a giant red R.

“You have got to be kidding me.” Clarke breathed, yanking Raven to a halt as she stopped herself. Raven looked back at her, frowning, then followed her gaze to the boy who was now hugging a dark-haired girl in a green summer dress. Raven couldn’t stop the grin that jumped onto her features, looking at Clarke with the evillest look Clarke had ever seen.

“You – you planned - “ Clarke began, rage building in her chest as Raven began tugging Clarke over to the group of boys that had joined Octavia and Harper. She’d been played.

Bellamy Blake’s usually fluffy, curly dark hair had been gelled up into a 50’s greaser style, a style that Clarke (absently) thought accentuated his strong jaw-line and dimpled chin. It was an absent thought because the boy dressed as Danny Zuko, Sandy Olson’s love interest, was a boy that Clarke hated with every fibre of her being.

Clarke had accidentally bumped into Bellamy, a sophomore majoring in History at Arkadia U, during her first week. They’d been in the library; he had been incredibly stressed and carrying a huge stack of books, she had been incredibly lost and staring at a floor plan of library. It was an epic crash that involved a tornado of colourful swears from Bellamy, and a torrent of sincere apologies from Clarke as she had crouched to help him pick them up.

It only took a few choice words from Bellamy for Clarke to mark him as Public Enemy Number One, and it was a feud that had followed them into Bellamy’s third and Clarke’s second year at the college. They would have avoided each other, had it not been for Octavia’s friendship with Clarke and her relation to Bellamy. 

For most social events, wherever Octavia went, Clarke followed, and wherever Octavia went, Bellamy usually found an excuse to be there too. Clarke’s involvement was purely self-preservation – she wasn’t a party animal, and she knew that if she didn’t attempt to keep a social life, work would swallow her up.

Bellamy, on the other hand, was just keeping an eye on his baby sister. It was a point of contention between them, and so it became a point of contention between Bellamy and Clarke, too. Among other things, such as Clarke’s tendency to be a workaholic and Bellamy’s more (seemingly) lay-about style of “muddling through college” as Clarke liked to put it. They bickered, always finding something to say to each other, always fighting for the last word.

So, naturally, Clarke was horrified as Bellamy and the other boys looked over to where Raven was dragging Clarke through clumps of people, a mad smile on her face. Bellamy’s face was the mirror of Clarke’s, painted with a grimace as the realisation of their joint costume dawned him.

Clarke watched as he looked back at Octavia, who was crying with laughter, along with the rest of their group. Anger was bright in his dark eyes, and Clarke felt like physically snarling, both at Bellamy and his traitorous sister.

“Oh, oh my god, this looks even better than I imagined,” Octavia wheezed once Clarke and Raven were close enough to hear her, and Clarke felt the tips of her ears start to burn. It matched the burning that was already occurring in her cheeks, and she resisted the urge to cross her arms across her tightly-covered chest. Miller wolf-whistled, and if looks could kill, he would have been lying on the floor with a still heart after the glare that Clarke shot him. 

To her credit, Octavia had done a very good job of setting this up. She was a queen prankster along with Monty and Jasper, but Clarke felt like this was one of her nastiest ones. Probably because, for once, she was on the receiving end.

The boys were all dressed like the greasers from Grease, matching the girls’ Pink Ladies get-up, and the group of them looked pretty magnificent, Clarke had to admit. If only it hadn’t been Bellamy Blake, now sulking behind Miller and Jasper, playing opposite her. 

“Octavia, you better believe I’m going to get my revenge for this,” Clarke hissed. Octavia was wiping tears from beneath her eyes at this point, waving her phone in the air.

“I have to get a picture, I have to,” she kept crying, leaning on Harper as another fit of laughter overcame her.

“I’m going to get a drink.” Bellamy said, barely audible over the music as he stalked off. The other guys followed him, Monty gesturing for them to stay where they were as they went. Clarke didn’t look at Bellamy as he left, just continued glowering at Octavia as she planned a way of legally murdering her friend.

“Oh man, your face right now,” Raven wheezed. “We’ve been planning this for months,” she explained, finally getting ahold of herself.

“Why?” Clarke exclaimed, “You know I hate him! Why him? Why not set me up with a stranger or something, that would have been funnier! God I just – why him, of all the people, why pick the most pig-headed, arrogant, snarky-“

“I’m not exactly thrilled either,” Bellamy’s low voice cut over the music, and Clarke sighed, quelling the rage inside her.

“God damn, that was quick?” Raven remarked as all four boys came back carrying drinks. 

“The bar wasn’t that busy.” Bellamy replied, his voice as far from amused as possible. 

“Bellamy nearly dragged the bartender over the bar,” Jasper hissed into Clarke’s ear as he passed her to loop an arm around Octavia’s waist, and began leading her to the stairs that lead down to the dancefloor.

Clarke rolled her eyes. Of course he had, she knew he had a predisposition to violence. She didn’t even spin to look at him after his comments, she just followed Octavia and Jasper, trying to keep her hips from swishing, just in case anyone was checking her out. It wouldn’t be difficult to in the skin-tight spandex leggings she wore.

As hot as it had been upstairs, it was nothing compared to the heat that engulfed the lower floor. The temperature took some of the edge off the tequila, but her head still felt light, her legs slightly unsteady as she struggled to keep up with Octavia and Jasper. They stopped outside a plush circular booth that was cut off by a velvet rope, and a placard that read “Octavia Blake” beneath script text that read “Private”.

“Geez Blake, you went all-out,” Raven said as she squeezed past Clarke and slid into the booth. Clarke slid in beside her, while Miller and Monty squeezed in the opposite side. 

“You guys are going to sit down already?” Octavia yelled, face lit with energetic disappointment. “We haven’t even touched the dancefloor yet!”

“I need a minute to distract myself from murdering you!” Clarke yelled back at Octavia, which earnt her a mischievous grin from the younger Blake.

“Well in that case, I’m going to skedaddle!” she said. She blew a kiss to Clarke and Raven, then dragged Harper and Jasper into the thick mass of bodies that crowded the dancefloor. 

Clarke watched them go, then realised that Bellamy was hovering at the end of the table. She seemed to be the only one to notice, since Monty, Miller and Raven had started some kind of drinking game, and for a second she wondered why he was still standing there. 

Then she realised that his options were either to watch his sister grind with strangers, or worse, Jasper Jordan, or sit in the booth. Sitting in the booth might have seemed preferable, until his only options with that were to slide in next to Clarke, or slide in next to Monty and basically sit opposite her. Neither of those seemed particularly inviting, so there he was left, hovering. 

“I have to go to the bathroom.” Clarke said quickly to Raven, not pausing for a response as she slid out of the booth. She didn’t look at Bellamy as she manoeuvred around him and headed for the pink neon sign that indicated the ladies’ room. She’d make the choice easy for him; he could sit down while she wasn’t there.

The temperature change between the dancefloor and the restroom was shocking, goosebumps rippling across Clarke’s skin as she stepped into the brightly lit, sticky-floored bathroom. She joined the line, fingernails pressing half-moons into the palms of her hands as she thought about Bellamy.

Ignorant pig, she thought, standing there like a fucking drama queen because he didn’t want to sit near me. Why can’t he just act like an adult, her thoughts were turning her mood dark, and she was pissed that the alcohol flowing into her blood wasn’t “loosening her up” like Octavia had said it would. 

She didn’t really need the toilet, since she didn’t want to break the seal, but she took the moment concealed in the cubicle to readjust her outfit. She tugged at her bra and her neckline, trying to make herself a bit more modest and failing miserably to do so. She had a seriously uncomfortable wedgie from the thong she was wearing to avoid pant-lines in her leggings, and her heels were already starting to wear on her feet.

Not for the first night since she’d been at college, she wanted to go home already. Clubbing wasn’t really her thing, since she much preferred hanging out with her friends at a bar. Somewhere there was less obligation to be pressed up against sweaty strangers, listening to awful music.

But going home now would involve dragging the girls home with her, and she couldn’t deprive them of a night of fun. She’d bare through the struggles of her outfit, and the struggles of Bellamy Blake to give her friends a good night out.

She stared herself down in the smudgy mirror back out in the main part of the bathroom. She remembered Octavia’s words from the line; she did look sexy as fuck. Her hair was big and beautiful, if a little over-the-top, and her make-up was perfect. She was fearless, and she could do this. 

She strutted out of the bathroom, heading straight for their booth, ready to sit down wherever the hell she wanted, and not give a fuck about what Bellamy Blake thought about it.

Her courage bolstered when she got back to their seats, and found it mostly empty. 

Mostly empty, because Bellamy was still sitting there.

Clarke didn’t know what to say.

Bellamy looked up at her, and was similarly lost for words. She found herself hovering, scanning the scene before her, trying to figure out what had happened and what she could say. She didn’t have to say anything though, as Bellamy started talking.

“They wanted to dance and I didn’t…” Clarke missed the end of the sentence, and, despite her better judgement, she slid into the booth opposite him so she could hear him better.

“What?” She shouted at him, eyebrows furrowing as she tucked her hands around her mostly-full cup.

“I said, they went to dance and I didn’t want to leave your drink on its own,” he shouted back at her, leaning in so she could hear him better. 

Even that small gesture caused Clarke to jerk back slightly, but not before she caught a trace of his aftershave. It smelt masculine and inviting, and if Clarke had been more sober, it wouldn’t have messed with her head as much as it did. 

Probably.

She wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. It certainly was kind of him to do it, and she was grateful that even for all their mutual hatred, he still had a shred of humanity. 

Part of her scolded herself for that thought; she knew he was kind, she’d seen enough of him around Octavia.

“Thanks,” Clarke said, giving him a reluctant nod. He returned it, then shrugged.

“Whatever. Can’t have one of O’s friends getting roofied. Wouldn’t make for a very fun night.” He replied, and Clarke bristled. 

There it was, that abrasive, borderline offensive humour. And the way he said “one of Octavia’s friends” like she was nobody to him. It shouldn’t have bothered her, but it did.

“…And you ruined it.” Clarke snapped, scowling as she took a sip from her drink.

“Shouldn’t you be off dancing with your little mates anyway?” he asked, raising his eyebrows as he jerked his head towards the dancefloor.

“Shouldn’t you?” she snapped back, folding her arms across her chest as she sat back in her seat. 

“Not really a dancer.” 

“Ooh wow, the unstoppable Bellamy Blake finally has a flaw! He is human after all!” Clarke exclaimed with fake shock, looking around to seek agreement from invisible peers. 

“Still probably better than you, Griffin. I saw you and Octavia on that dance machine,” he replied coolly, his trademark smug grin crossing his face as he watched his fingers tug the label off the bottle in his hands.

“Yeah, you wish. Octavia’s shown me videos - don’t forget, Footloose,” Clarke replied, venom dripping from her voice. His eyes snapped to hers, thinly-veiled anger just visible in the dim light provided by the weak LED’s in the ceiling of the booth. She sent him her own smug smile, remembering the videos that Octavia had filmed of her big brother in his high school days.

“I’m going to kill her.” Bellamy said, just loud enough for Clarke to hear. She smoothed her hands over her spandex-clad thighs and couldn’t help but agree with him.

“We should plan it together, for this,” Clarke remarked gesturing between them. She was talking about their outfits, but she wasn’t sure where the friendly comment came from. She told herself it was everything to do with the alcohol, and nothing to do with the way his arms looked in the sleeveless tee that had been concealed beneath the varsity jacket he’d been wearing.

He'd turned to look out onto the dancefloor – probably looking for Octavia, Clarke thought – and Clarke didn’t fail to notice the lines of his muscles where his arm rested on the table.

Bellamy just looked at her from the corner of his eye, and Clarke swore she could see the beginnings of a smirk. Something about the sharpness in his eyes twisted something up in Clarke’s stomach, made her want to squirm, but she knew she had to hold his gaze. So she stared him down as she sipped her drink, the same cunning twinkle in her eyes.

With a sigh, and a slight shake of his head, Bellamy shimmied out the end of the booth. Clarke was incredibly surprised, and a little ashamed to find herself feeling a little bit disappointed by his departure, until she realised he was still standing at the top of the table.

“Down it Griffin. We can’t let Octavia and the other harpies win.” He shouted over the music to her, gesturing for her to neck the rest of her drink. It took her a few moments to comply, since she was thoroughly confused, but before she knew what was happening she was holding Bellamy’s hand as he helped her out of the booth. Was he – were they going to dance?

As Bellamy began to lead her over to the swarming mass of bodies, she stopped dead, yanking back on his arm. He turned to look at her, his puzzled face blinking black and a fizzy shade of lilac beneath the strobe lights that was flashing in time with the song banging through the speakers.

“What is it?” he asked, moving close enough to her that he could speak into her ear, though he still had to shout. 

“I don’t want to go in there in this,” she yelled back, before gesturing exaggeratedly at her spandex-clad body. “I’ll be able to feel everything!”

Bellamy looked down at her, and she could practically see the realisation dawn on his face. There were a few seconds where his eyebrows were pinched, and his lips were pursed (not that Clarke was thinking about Bellamy Blake’s lips), while Clarke waited for him to let her go so she could go back to the booth. Or go get another drink; she felt like she’d need it.

“Is it okay if I touch your waist?” Bellamy asked, and Clarke blushed so furiously she was glad it was so dark and discoloured on the club floor. The thought of Bellamy’s hands on her waist did something to her she wasn’t expecting, since she was supposed to be hating the boy, but the thought was the source of the sudden colouration in her otherwise pale cheeks.

“Why?” she called back, heart beating faster than it should have been. It seemed to double as she watched Bellamy grin and lean in once again, and this time she was hyper aware of the feeling of his breath on her ear and neck, and the smell of his aftershave again.

“Just trust me.” He replied, then leant back and raised his eyebrows with a smile, which made Clarke feel like melting. 

Still not entirely sure what she was agreeing to, she nodded slowly. Heat crept slowly up her neck as Bellamy transferred his hands from her hand to her waist, as he stood behind her. 

He left a good distance between their two bodies, which Clarke highly appreciated, but the feeling of his strong hands on her very sensitive waist was enough to give her impure thoughts. It’s just the booze, she tried to convince herself.

“Just push people out of the way, I’ll keep them off the rest of you.” Bellamy said into Clarke’s ear, which made her jump slightly; she was still getting used to Bellamy Blake touching her, she hadn’t been prepared for him to talk to her again. 

She readied herself for the crowd, pulling Bellamy along with her as she plunged into the pulsating mass of people. She pushed and elbowed and physically moved people out of the way as she made a beeline for where she could see Miller’s shaved head bobbing up out of the crowd, while Bellamy stayed true to his word and made sure no-one had a grope or a feel as she passed by.

A few excruciating seconds later, the pair of them had made it to the little circle that had been formed by the group, and Clarke felt Bellamy detach himself from her as she moved to stand between Raven and Octavia. She looked across the group at him, smiling gratefully as she joined the steppy-sway dance the girls were performing.

“Do my eyes deceive me or were you and Bellamy a little close for comfort?” Raven yelled into Clarke’s ear as they danced, and Clarke felt herself blushing again. She had to resist the temptation to glance over at him.

“He offered.” Clarke shot back, shrugging. Raven looked scandalised.

“But he’s an ass!” she replied in mock horror. Clarke knew that Raven had a soft spot for the elder Blake really, but the two of them had butt heads almost as much as he and Clarke had.

“He was a perfect gentlemen!” Clarke said, spinning so she was dancing with Harper, and ignoring Raven’s reaction to that unexpected admission.

Clarke was grateful he’d gotten her through the crowd without assault, and that now she could actually have fun with her friends. She hadn’t been expecting that when she’d seen him arrive earlier that night, but she wasn’t going to complain.

A song or two later, a familiar drum beat pulsed out over the crowd, sending screams of joy into the air. They were followed by an iconic guitar riff, which had Clarke staring over at Bellamy, a grin slowly spreading across his face. His eyes met hers as she looked over, and he shook his head, trying to look angry, but Clarke could see the smile he was trying to fight off.

As Kenny Loggins began singing, Clarke did a little twist of her foot, raising her eyebrows at Bellamy as she danced, her entire expression mocking him. He stood dead still, arms crossed over his chest, still refusing to smile. The crowd shimmied and shook around them, but Clarke’s eyes stayed focused on Bellamy, teasing him with a laugh and a smile as the song built up to the chorus.

“Now I gotta cut loose,” Kenny sang, and Bellamy burst out into the most ridiculous Dad-dance Clarke had ever witness. She couldn’t stop laughing as he shimmied his hips, and boogied his arms in front of his chest, looking as bad and out-of-time as he had in the video Octavia had showed her.

He danced across the circle to her as she laughed, trying to bat him away as he approached, dad-dancing into her personal space, and the grin on his face was intoxicating to everyone in the circle who was laughing as hard as Clarke.

“C’mon!” he shouted to her, reaching for her wrists. She let him take them, and was crying with laughter as he waggled them in the air between them, making them move in the same style he was executing the seconds before. She started doing the hip shuffle too, and soon they were guffawing and dancing like a pair of middle-aged parents.

Clarke felt so light and free and happy, that she hardly remembered she was supposed to be hating the boy who was making them all laugh. It was a side of Bellamy that rarely came out, and Clarke guessed the alcohol had a hand in it. Clarke and Raven laughed together as he leant down and lifted Octavia up by her legs, holding her high above the crowd while she tried to fight him off. He dropped her (carefully) and started doing a version of the twist that was so awful, it sent the girls into another fit of giggles.

By the end of the song, everyone in the group was dancing as cringe-inducing as possible, and as the final beats fired out, they managed to simultaneously pose dramatically just before the next song started, making them double over in fits of giggles. 

“More drinks?” Raven managed to signal to everyone, and soon all 8 of them were barging their way back through the crowd. Clarke managed to get in the middle of all of them, so she didn’t need Bellamy’s assistance, but her mind still flashed back to the feeling of his hands on her waist.

The boys went off to the bar to procure drinks for everyone (“We’ll get the next round!” Harper had offered with a charming smile as she shooed Jasper away from the table), the girls slid into the booth, drunkenly laughing and giggling with each other.

“Did you see the way those guys were looking at us?” Raven wheezed as she flicked open a compact mirror to touch-up her lipstick.

“I saw the way my brother was looking at Clarke,” Octavia replied, with an eyebrow waggle shared with Harper, which earned her an elbow in the ribs from Clarke.

“You two sure didn’t look like arch-enemies when you joined us,” Harper replied, borrowing Raven’s mirror before she could stash it back in her bra.

“He offered! And he was very good, and – I don’t know. Maybe I was wrong.” Clarke admitted, shrugging as she ran her fingers along the surface of the table, not looking at any of her friends. It was a big admission, and one that she was certain she never would have made sober. 

“…That’s a big change. Did he put something in your drink?” Raven teased, which got a giggle from Harper.

“If he did, I’d end him.” Octavia snorted, glancing back out to the dancefloor. 

“Looking for someone?” Clarke asked, eager to change the subject from Bellamy. 

“I told Lincoln to meet me here, but I don’t think he’s here yet,” she replied, pulling her phone of her top. Clarke strained her eyes to see a bald head anywhere in the club, but her view was blocked by a body holding two drinks.

“O – we picked up a stray,” Bellamy called to Octavia. Lincoln stuck his head around the domed entrance to the booth, and shot Octavia a smile, who squealed and clambered out of the booth almost knocking Bellamy’s drinks as she went. 

Bellamy grumbled good-naturedly as he took Octavia’s place next to Clarke, who was decidedly less annoyed about it than she would have been earlier in the night. Especially since he placed one of the cups in front of her.

“That’s yours,” he said as he glanced back to see Octavia and Lincoln eating each other’s faces. He took a long drink from him cup before he turned back to the table as Miller, Monty and Jasper slid in.

“What is it?” Clarke asked, sniffing at the edged.

“I just got you what you had before, I hope it’s okay.” He replied, his voice notedly darker than before.

Clarke took a sip and nearly choked - it burned a lot more than her previous drink had.

“That is not the same drink I had before Bellamy!” she squealed, sticking her tongue out to try to get rid of the sting. She smacked him on the arm slightly as he grinned evilly.

“I had them add a little something.” 

“Dick.”

“Ouch. You can get me back when it’s your round.” He replied, nudging her gently with his shoulder. Clarke rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the smile that came with it. She tried another sip, but it was no better the second time.

“You’re getting straight vodka.” Clarke snorted, sniffing her cup again. Bellamy shrugged, suggesting that he wouldn’t mind it.

“It’s more or less what that is,” he replied, nodding to Clarke’s cup.

“God, gross Bellamy. If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you were trying to get me drunk.” She retorted, raising her eyebrows in challenge.

“Pfft, like you aren’t wasted already,” he snorted, drinking from his own cup. “Are we flirting?” Bellamy asked, fixing Clarke with a challenging smirk. She blushed furiously, physically recoiling – she hadn’t realised that she’d been taking up more of his personal space than was appropriate.

“No, we are not.” She retorted, forcing a laugh like the idea was preposterous. Bellamy just rested his elbow on the table and tilted his head so it rested on his hand, still smiling at Clarke. 

“Are you – are you flexing?” Clarke shot him an incredulous look as she flicked her eyes from his biceps to his face. “You are – knock it off, Casanova.” She slapped him on the shoulder again, physically turning herself so she was facing Raven and not Bellamy in any way. Out of the corner of her eye she could see him grinning as he lifted his arm to flex it, and Clarke fought hard to keep the smile off her face.

“Listen, I’m just saying, Pitbull makes shit songs unless they’re played in the club.” Raven was trying to reason with Jasper, as Clarke tuned back into the conversation that was occurring next to their non-flirting. “I’m not saying they’re shit altogether, they’re just shit if you’re sober.”

“See that, my dear Raven, is where you are so laughingly wrong. Mr Worldwide would lift the mood in any situation – why, I have requested that Give Me Everything is played at my funeral.” Jasper replied grandly, lifting his cup into the air as he spoke. Monty lifted a fist to his mouth as though he was overcome with emotion, like Jasper had given a moving speech. Miller just snorted and rolled his eyes as he sipped on his beer – clearly, he was in Raven’s camp.

“Thanks for letting me know, I can tell your family not to bother inviting me.” Raven replied with a smug grin before sipping her drink, which caused Jasper to press a hand to his chest, a horrified look on his face.

“It offends me that you think you’d be invited,” he replied, and Raven flicked the straw of her drink at him. “See it’s behaviour like that which makes me question whether you’d behave appropriately at such an important occasion.”

As the conversation and banter progressed, Clarke became less hyperaware of Bellamy’s thigh pressed against her own, or that she could feel the warmth radiating off him. She was doing her best to ignore him as anything more than another member in the group, but it was hard, though it helped that her brain was slowly becoming foggier the more she drank.

It didn’t help that every time he shifted slightly, it sent her senses back into overdrive. 

By the time the drinks were dwindling in everyone’s cups, Clarke was itching to get out of the booth, and to put a bit of distance between she and Bellamy. Not because the closeness was uncomfortable, but rather because she found her mind wandering, and in her increasingly drunk state, she wasn’t sure how long she’d be able to hold off.

“Okay, dance time!” Jasper called out, climbing onto the table to crawl across and get out of the booth. “Ooh Raven, harder!” he cooed as Raven smacked him on the backside, making everyone laugh harder than they already were as they slid out of the booth like normal people.

Forgetting that she was planning to get away from the boy, Clarke’s hand somehow found its way to Bellamy’s back as she followed him out, and when she was finally standing, his hands somehow found their way back to her waist, this time without him asking. She didn’t mind as she led him behind the others back onto the dancefloor, and as the beginning notes of YMCA began to play out, Clarke started to boogie instead of pushing people out of the way. The truth was, she hardly noticed them with Bellamy there.

When the group came to a stop, they started throwing the appropriate shapes in time with the party goers around them, laughing and flicking arms and hips in time with the beat. Raven pointed out a group dressed as the Village People who’d climbed up into the DJ booth, and were grooving along next to the DJ, and leading everyone in the dance.

Let Me Take A Selfie was next, which prompted Raven to take her phone out of her shirt and pose with various members of the group who were all laughing like mad. Clarke knew Raven would still look amazing in every photo, and she was glad that her friend would have some good memories when she graduated next summer.

As song after song played, something cheesy followed by something current followed by something nostalgic, Clarke was having the time of her life. She barely noticed the people around her, barely registered the arms and body that brushed her sides, barely noticed the pain in her feet from her heels. She felt so alive, and so blessed to have such amazing friends. 

In the middle of a particularly bouncy song, an over-exuberant clubber dressed as Mario jumped backwards without looking, and collided with Clarke, who stumbled forward into an unsuspecting Bellamy. Neither of them reacted straight away, beyond clasping each other’s arms so they could remain steady and not fall over, but as Clarke’s mind caught up she whirled to the guy who hadn’t even realised he’d pushed her.

Releasing Bellamy, she strode the two steps she’d fallen and grabbed the guy’s arm. He spun to her, his face annoyed, but the second he looked down at the tightly-clothed, beautiful blonde girl, the annoyance faded into a wry smile.

“Hey gorgeous,” he crooned, and Clarke looked at him in disgust. “What can I do for you?”

“You just pushed me.” She snapped, glaring at him.

“I did? Oh, my bad. Though I’d gladly do it again if it meant getting you to talk to me again.” He replied, starting to dance way too close to her. She took a step back, clearly repulsed, but he didn’t seem to get the message.

“Just watch where you’re dancing, asshole.” She bit back, turning her back on him before he could answer. 

Her eyes met Bellamy’s, and he mouthed “You okay?” to her, a frown on his face. She nodded, but gasped as she felt hands on her hips and a body grinding against her. 

“I like a feisty girl.” The guy from before said into her ear and she shoved her elbows back against him, her hands pushing his away from her hips.

But before she could turn to slap him, or yell at him or chase him off, Bellamy was there, pulling Clarke behind him and muscling up to the creepy guy.

“She clearly does not want to dance with you,” Bellamy spat, seeming to tower over the guy despite their only tiny height difference, “so if you put your hands on her again I will gladly remove them for you.” 

Clarke’s heart was still beating fast from the assault, and she jumped as she felt another hand on her arm. But this time it was Harper’s, and it was comforting, and Clarke was grateful. She watched as Raven joined Bellamy, and together they watched as the creepy guy left the dancefloor before turning back to Clarke.

“Are you okay?” Raven asked, giving Clarke’s arm a friendly rub. Clarke nodded, looking to the part of the crowd she’d seen the guy leave through. Her eyes flicked to Bellamy’s, which were full of concern and a little bit of lingering anger. 

“Yeah just… what an asshole.” Clarke replied, shaking herself. She smiled at Raven, and did a little impromptu shoulder rock. “It’s okay, he’s gone. I’m okay, honestly.” 

Raven seemed reassured, and went back to dancing with Clarke, this time a lot closer than before, her eyes scanning the people around them for more potential creeps. Clarke’s eyes found Bellamy’s again, and she smiled assuredly at him too. He still looked concerned, and a little angry, which did that thing to Clarke’s chest again. He smiled back at her, dancing with more vigor, and soon the event was just a bad memory.

“Wait, where’s Octavia?” Clarke suddenly realised, glancing around. 

“Lincoln’s not here either – maybe they’re still off making-out somewhere.” Jasper suggesting, wagging his eyebrows at Bellamy who had stopped dancing and was looking about, the concern back on his handsome face.

Before he could send out a search party, the DJ’s voice boomed out over the cheesy Whitney Houston song that was playing.

“We’ve got a special request for you now – this is for O’s big brother, and his special Sandy!” he called out as the beginning notes of Summer Lovin’ started playing. 

Clarke and Bellamy’s eyes found each other, and the pair of them looked horrified. A quick glance at the DJ booth saw Octavia and Lincoln pointing to where their group was standing, and soon, a spotlight had settled on them, with Clarke and Bellamy in the centre. 

There was no hiding the blush in her cheeks in the bright white light, and she heard the catcalls and wolf-whistles as the song slid from Summer Lovin’ into You’re the One That I Want. Clarke felt helpless, as she looked over at Raven who was crying with laughter. 

“We can’t let them win.” Bellamy said to her, a slight frown on his face. He was right – if she refused, or walked off, or did anything to suggest that she was uncomfortable or in pain, they’d laugh so much more. So she did something she never thought she’d do in a million years – she started dancing with Bellamy Blake.

In front of an entire crowd, and all their friends, the pair of them started dancing like idiots, switching between hand-jives and the same dad-dance moves they were pulling earlier. Soon they were laughing along with everyone else, and the light spun out away from them and returned to scanning around the room with dizzying speed. Bellamy took Clarke’s hand and lifted it as she twisted under his arm, giggling and feeling giddy. 

Something flashed beside them as Clarke fell against Bellamy’s chest, dizzy from the spin and smiling like an idiot. Raven was smiling evilly from behind her phone, cackling like a witch as Octavia and Lincoln finally appeared behind her.

“Oh. My. God.” Octavia crowed, pulling the phone out of Raven’s hand. “I thought I’d die before I saw this.” 

“You owe me twenty.” Raven replied, holding her hand out for her phone.

“You made bets?” Clarke asked incredulously, which earnt her another evil grin from Raven.

“Octavia bet you or Bellamy would just go home. I bet you’d end up friends –“ Raven explained, but Harper cut in before she could finish.

“Friends? You bet they’d go home together. I said they’d laugh at it… eventually.” She corrected, smiling smugly at Raven.

“Man, why didn’t we get in on that?” Jasper asked Monty. 

“Harper said she’d split her twenty with me.” Monty replied, patting Jasper on the shoulder. “Sorry dude.”

“What happened to ‘bros before hos’?” Jasper asked as he followed Monty off into the crowd and off the dancefloor.

“Jasper Jordan you better not be calling me a ho,” Harper called after him, following after them.

Then Raven, Lincoln and Octavia headed off, still cackling together over the song and the phone as they went, leaving Clarke and Bellamy alone on the dancefloor. Clarke was still leaning on him, feeling a lot drunker than she had planned to. The final parts of the Grease medley were still playing, but Clarke felt too tired, and slightly too awkward to dance like before. Plus… weirdly, this felt like a nice moment, and she didn’t really want to ruin it.

By awful coincidence, she thought, a slightly slowly song started to play – something by the Red Hot Chilli Peppers, or Oasis or something, she wasn’t sure. But what she was sure of though was that Bellamy was comfy, and nice, and he was… he felt safe.

They stayed like that for a little while, swaying kind of lamely, one of his arms around her back and the other resting on her arm that was stretch around his stomach. Her fingers were tangled in the soft fabric of his black shirt, tucked in a fist that rested on his side. Another time, she would freak over it, but right now it was… nice.

“Hey, can we go outside for a sec?” Bellamy asked after the song ended, trying to foist Clarke off himself. Clarke looked at him in confusion, her hand on his arm, but nodded. She let him lead her out, her hand slipping down into his so he could pull her through the crowd.

They made their way out into the smoking garden, and Clarke felt blessed by the cool air. The sudden rush sent goosebumps rippling across her bare arms, but it was a nice rush, and it was refreshing.

Bellamy pulled her over to a smoke-free patch of garden, up against one of the brightly-painted walls, and leant against it. Clarke leant opposite him, the same look of confusion on her face. He hadn’t let go of her hand, but was instead swinging it back and forth slightly.

“Can I be honest with you?” he asked, his voice noticeably sombre. Drunk Clarke found this was a shame, preferring the smirks and grins, but she nodded sincerely. 

“Of course. Always.” She said assuredly, and Bellamy grinned at her focused seriousness. 

“I think… I think I was wrong about you.” He said, looking at her hand in his instead of her face. Clarke frowned.

“I do – I feel the same way.” She replied, the words coming out without her really thinking about it. She really was a lot drunker than she thought she was.

“I don’t think you’ll remember this in the morning, so I probably won’t bring it up again, but I was definitely wrong about you. And I feel stupid that we’ve spent so much time fighting – “

“When we’re actually having fun right now?” Clarke finished for him, cutting right through the middle of his sentence. She chuckled, swaying dangerously as she pushed herself off the wall. “I finished your sentence. That – that proves it.”

“Steady there princess,” Bellamy said, pushing himself off the wall so he could place a steadying hand on Clarke’s shoulder. She was immensely grateful for it – standing was beginning to feel difficult, and her head was starting to spin.

“I think I need to sit down.” She said, before abruptly attempting to drop to the floor. It was an attempt because Bellamy caught her before she could hurt herself, and helped her to the floor more slowly.

“I don’t think I should have put as much alcohol in that drink.” Bellamy remarked, lowering himself to the floor next to her. She leant against his shoulder, and he put his arm around her.

“No, you shouldn’t. This is your fault.” Clarke replied, poking a finger into his chest with more force than was necessary. 

“Ow.”

“Sorry. That was – revenge.” She paused in the middle of her sentence to lift a hand to her mouth - she definitely wasn’t feeling good.

“Are you going to throw up, Clarke?” Bellamy asked, amusement in his voice.

“No, are you vomiting Bellamy Blake?” she returned, looking up at him. 

“I hope I’m not vomiting.” 

“Me too. Don’t get sick on – me.” She put her hand to her mouth again – something was definitely brewing. Bellamy watched her for a few seconds, before sighing. He stood, pulling her up with him despite her protests.

“No Bellamy no I’m fi-“ she had to stop her sentence entirely that time, to stop from throwing up on him. She felt nauseous, and she decided that she had to use all her concentration not to throw up. That meant no talking, no looking at Bellamy, no thinking about Bellamy. She just let him lead her into the club.

Clarke was vaguely aware of the booth, and Raven and Octavia’s voices, but she couldn’t reply to them. She wouldn’t know what to say to them anyway, since she wasn’t even able to focus on what they’d said. She just knew that they were there, and then she was moving again, and a few stairs and loud passing voices later, she was outside again.

“Where we going?” she managed to slur out, stumbling along beside Bellamy, who she wasn’t sure had been speaking to her this whole time or not.

“I’m taking you home to bed,” he answered, amusement still in his voice. 

“Does that mean – did we get kicked out?” she asked. The cool air was making her feel a little better, and she felt a little steadier now they were away from the music and the people. Bellamy laughed softly, and Clarke thought it was the most beautiful sound in the world.

“No, Clarke, we didn’t get kicked out.”

“…I made you leave.” Clarke replied sadly, as the realisation dawned on her. Raven or Octavia or Harper could have taken her home, if he’d wanted to stay – he probably had. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be silly Clarke.” He replied softly. They stopped at a crosswalk, and Clarke felt steady enough to stand up a little bit straighter. 

“But you could have stayed and had fun and danced and got more drunker,” Clarke protested, looking up at Bellamy. Something about the way he looked at her, under the sodium lights… she felt butterflies in her tummy, that she knew wasn’t alcohol.

The light turned green and Bellamy helped her cross, his arm around her waist to support her. She hadn’t realised it before, but he’d draped his varsity jacket over her shoulders. She tucked her arms into the sleeves, enjoying the fact that they were way to long her for arms. It made her feel safe.

“It’s not really my thing.” He said simply, and Clarke could relate. She loved her friends, and she loved dancing, but the huge groups of people, drunk people… she wasn’t the biggest fan in the world.

“I know how you feel.” She said quietly, wrapping one of her long-sleeve-clad arms around Bellamy’s waist in return. It made it slightly difficult to walk, especially since Bellamy kept stepping over her , just a bit too far, to make her laugh. She still felt slightly nauseous, but immensely happy.

“Can we do this again?” Clarke asked, finding bravery easier than she thought she would. “But like… sober, next time?”

Bellamy snorted, and Clarke looked up to see a grin on his freckled face. 

“Sure we can. If you remember, when you’re sober.” He teased, nudging her with his hip. She nudged him back, rolling her eyes.

“I’ll remember. I’m not that drunk.” She replied, just as she stumbled over her own feet. Bellamy laughed, and it made Clarke laugh back.

“If you’re not drunk, then you’re super clumsy.” He said, and Clarke could hear the smile in his voice.

All too soon, they reached her and Octavia’s house. He propped her against the wall that lined the yard as he went for the spare key – she didn’t have to tell him where it was. 

When he’d unlocked the door, he turned back to a scathing look.

“What?” he asked as he returned to help her across the yard.

“I’d say to Octavia we’ll move it again, but I get the feeling you’d turn the yard upside down to find it.” She remarked, knowing Bellamy’s protectiveness over his sister. He said nothing as he helped her in, then locked the door behind him,

She kicked her shoes off, and padded into the kitchen for a drink, leaving Bellamy in the hall while he unlaced his sneakers.

“Do you want a drink?” she called as she reached for glasses. Looking up created vertigo-induced nausea, but she could handle it as she went to fill them up with water.

“As long as it’s not alcoholic.” He replied as he walked into the kitchen, joining her by the sink. His fingers brushed hers as he took the glass, and raised it in thanks.

They stared at each other as they drank, both hiding smiles behind the glasses, the stare turning into an unspoken contest. Clarke lost because she laughed, sending a plume of water straight up into her nostrils.

“Ugh, god, ow,” she laughed, spilling water down herself and onto the stained lino floor as she put the glass back on the counter with a shaking hand. Bellamy was laughing too, but managed to avoid drenching himself in the process.

“Maybe you are just that clumsy.” He replied, and she shoved against him playfully. “Woah, that’s the thanks I get for helping you home?” 

A thought fizzed through Clarke’s head, and she was clearly still affected by the alcohol, because she had the guts to voice it.

“I could say thank you in a different way…” she said suggestively, looking at Bellamy through her eyelashes. She shifted her weight so she was leaning slightly closer to him, and reached her hand out to touch his chest.

He caught it in his hand before she could get close enough, and Clarke noticed the slight change in his posture. He became less relaxed, more rigid. She panicked for a second, wondering if she’d gone too far, if they really hadn’t been flirting, and it was just beer goggles putting thoughts into her head.

He seemed to sense her panic, because he quickly changed tack and lifted her hand to press a kiss into palm. The feeling of his lips against her skin sent shockwaves through Clarke, and she pressed a hand to the countertop to steady herself.

“Clarke… If you were more sober, I would definitely let you thank me in a different way,” he said gently, tucking his fingers through hers as he brought her hand back down. His other hand brushed against her cheek, and she found herself leaning into the touch. 

“But I’m not in the habit of taking advantage of drunk girls.” He finished. The distance between them had somehow closed, but Clarke wasn’t sure if she’d moved closer or if he had. All she knew that he was close enough to press another kiss into the top of her head. 

The feeling of it, the action itself, made Clarke feel lighter than air. It was the easiest rejection she’d ever dealt with, and even though she had arguments to his points, she didn’t want to push it. This was enough, for now, and she didn’t want to ruin it by being a real mess and coming across as desperate. She’d been there before.

“Okay.” She said simply, nodding without looking at him. She ran her thumb over his where their hands were still intertwined, and she sighed contentedly.

“C’mon, let’s get you to bed.” Bellamy said, after a few moments of them standing together, and lead her out of the kitchen and up the stairs. 

When she was changed into her pyjamas, her teeth brushed and her hair plaited back, she climbed into her double bed and snuggled down into the blanket. Bellamy’s hand stroked her hair for a few seconds, before she heard his footsteps heading for the door. The light flicked out, and the footsteps paused. Clarke could see Bellamy silhouetted on the floor, his shadow cast from where he stood in the beam of light from the hallway.

“Bellamy, wait,” Clarke said lamely, hoping he could still hear her.

“Yeah?” he asked after a pause. His voice sounded uncertain as he spoke, which Clarke vaguely noted in her drunken state.

“Can you stay?”

Pause.

“I don’t want to invite temptation, Clarke.” he said softly, and she felt slightly deflated. “But if you don’t want to be alone-“

“I don’t,” she interjected quickly, her voice slurred from where her jaw was pressed into the pillow.

“-then I’ll go get a blanket from O’s room, and I’ll crash on the floor.” He finished with a chuckle.

A few shuffling noises later, Bellamy appeared back in Clarke’s room. 

“…Do you have a beanbag?” Clarke asked, recognised the distinctive rustling noise of thousands of little beans moving together.

“…Maybe.” His voice was low and amused in the darkness.

“….The bed is comfier.” 

“The bean bag is fine. Go to sleep princess.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Stop acting like one.”

“You’re a princess.”

“I’d make a very pretty one.” This made Clarke laugh, but she was too tired to laugh for very long.

“Goodnight, Bellamy.”

“Goodnight, Clarke.”

But Clarke felt surprisingly un-tired. She had felt very tired on the walk home, but this… this moment was so odd, she wasn’t sure if it was even real.

“Bellamy?” she asked quietly into the dark after a few minutes of silence. Her voice was soft and gentle, not wanting to wake him if he was already asleep.

“Clarke,” his return came, just as soft and quiet.

“Can you believe this?” she asked, the smile evident in her voice. She had to fight a laugh, still feeling giddy.

“You mean because we hate each other?” his voice was similarly light, and Clarke couldn’t resist a laugh.

“You started it.” She replied, burrowing into her bed in satisfaction. It felt like this conversation had been a long time coming, though she wouldn’t have expected these circumstances.

“…I resent that accusation.” Bellamy sighed, and she heard the rustle of the beanbag as he shifted in it. “Though I guess I was kind of a dick to you on that day.”

“You were stressed, I was being careless.” Clarke argued, sighing deeply as she flipped onto her back to stare at the ceiling.

“You kinda were.” Bellamy replied, which earnt him a cushion to the face, thrown by Clarke with surprising accuracy. “Okay, you were a little freshman, I could have been more forgiving.”

“Exactly, thank you.” Clarke replied triumphantly.

Bellamy sighed again, but Clarke could picture the smile on his freckled face. She enjoyed hearing him in her room, which was a feeling that took her by surprise, yet again. 

“This has been a weird night.” She sighed. Something about it made her not want to go to sleep, because then it would be over and she knew things would be different in the morning. They always were.

“It is Halloween,” Bellamy reasoned, but it was more than that, and he knew it too. “Well this is the first time I’ve gone home with a girl but slept on the floor.” 

Clarke laughed at that, shrugging even though he couldn’t see it.

“I did offer you the bed.” She replied smugly, stretching out with a satisfying sigh. “That offer still stands, by the way.” There was a pause when Bellamy didn’t reply, and Clarke’s heartbeat seemed to be audible and fast. She froze as the beanbag rustled again.

“If I have to smother you with the beanbag to stop your advances, I won’t hesitate,” Bellamy said as he stood, and crossed the room. “Don’t forget that, Griffin.”

Clarke just beamed as she shimmied over to give Bellamy enough room to get in, elation fizzing through her body. She was going to keep a strict distance, but it was a start. It felt a bit like a sleepover with a friend, more than anything else, and that was a magical feeling in of itself.

“I actually think the beanbag is comfier than this.” Bellamy remarked as he shuffled about to make himself comfy. 

“Shut up Blake.” Clarke groaned, smacking him gently with another cushion. “Don’t make me regret my offer.”

“Well I’m here now so good luck trying to get rid of me.” 

“Oh please, you’re far too chivalrous to invade a lady’s bed without invitation.” 

“Good thing you’re not a lady then.” He retorted, and Clarke laughed. 

“Dick. Go to sleep.”

“You first, you’re the one who dragged me out of the club.”

Clarke let out a scandalized gasp as she smacked him with a cushion again. 

“Do not make me feel guilty for that! I’m letting you not sleep on the floor, is that not repayment?”

“…It’ll do for now.” Bellamy replied, and this time, Clarke could hear the sleepiness of his tone. She was beginning to feel more tired now she’d relaxed a bit.

It wasn’t long before the two of them were snoring, back-to-back in the bed, Bellamy still dressed in his costume and Clarke in her pyjamas. They didn’t wake up when Octavia, Lincoln, and Raven stumbled into the house in the early hours, nor did they wake when Octavia peaked around the door to check on Clarke.

The pictures she took of them sleeping together would come of humiliating use later on, but for now, she let them sleep. She was ecstatic that her plan had worked exactly how she’d wanted.


End file.
